


Hand To Hold, Hair To Cut

by TN_Night



Series: #JeanMarcoWeek2015 [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boyfriends, Boys In Love, Established Relationship, Fluff, Good Guy Jean, Haircuts, JeanMarco Week, M/M, Sweet, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, trans!marco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 06:10:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4252329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TN_Night/pseuds/TN_Night
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trans male Marco (or Marcia to his parents) has a crappy night with a happy ending :L </p><p>(summaries are killing me, the story is better than the summary, I promise!)</p><p>Written for JeanMarco week 2015, day 3: Hand to hold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hand To Hold, Hair To Cut

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, it is a bit rushed. Yes, all my works are rushed. No, it doesn't fit the prompt that well. Why does it matter? I think all that matters is that there's JeanMarco in it and it's fluffy so sh. :3 Enjoy~

 

 

 

Marco was sat on his bed, lazily scrolling through video suggestions on YouTube to see which would be his next means of procrastination before he'd have to give in and finish his homework.

 

He'd scrolled past several good options before finally choosing one. Sighing, he let the Smosh video (which he'd seen a few times before already) run in the background while he got up to grab his bag off the floor. He dumped his work on the desk that was off to the left wall of the larger-than-necessary box-shaped room. The boy's bedroom didn't have much in it besides the small bit of clutter for school, a bed, a closet, a desk with an office chair, and a standing lamp that was currently illuminating the space. A window adjacent to the door let in the beautifully low moonlight, the only thing filtering it's brightness was the tree that slightly blocked his view to the street. 

 

He sat at the desk after grabbing his laptop back from the bed, setting it next to his math textbook and picking up a pencil. He turned to the page they'd been working on today and got to work. Not long after he'd began, he heard his mother's voice called him from downstairs.

 

"Marcia! Come down for dinner!"

 

He sighed, the familiar dread that came along with that name or any female pronoun associated with him just made his heart sink. He sat back in his chair for a second, slowly dragging his hands down his face before finally pushing himself up, trudging from his room down to the dining area.

 

"There's my girl! Wouldn't wanna eat without'cha!" Marco's mother said, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face as she set the table for the three of them.

 

Marco sat at one of the set places, waiting until his father and mother both sat down as well before he started eating. The beginning of their meal was silent, as it always was, before one of them broke the quiet.

 

"So how was your day, Marcia?" His father asked with a mouthful of food, both what he said and the gross image of chewed greens making Marco cringe.

 

"…It was fine," he replied, refusing to look his father in the eye.

 

"Doesn't sound fine, what's wrong, sweetie?" His mother asked, looking concerned.

 

He took a second to mull over his options here, let it go and brush them off, or try to confront them again.

 

While the second option probably would've given him some sort of sense of accomplishment, he chose the first. Saving himself a lecture and the trouble of having to suffer through a week of pointless feminine activities his parents would always try to "convert" him with. 

 

"Nothing, just tired." 

 

His parents, somehow, seemed satisfied with the answer, choosing not to dwell on it any longer and making conversation among themselves, leaving Marco to think.

 

He was about halfway done his meal when he decided to say–

 

"Can I cut my hair?"

 

His parents stopped eating for a moment, looking over to him before resuming.

 

"How short?"

 

Marco tried to think of a name for the haircut that wasn't "boy's cut".

 

"Pixie cut." 

 

His mother's face scrunched up in distaste, "No, your long hair is much nicer."

 

"You should let it down more often, you'd look much prettier," his father cut in.

 

Marco slouched back in his seat, picking at his dinner while his parents went on with their previous discussion. 

 

After about five minutes, he got up, taking his plate into the kitchen and putting any leftovers in the fridge, "I'm going to take a shower."

 

There was no response, but he think he liked it better that way anyway.

 

~~~♥~~~

 

The warm water pounded against his back, the temperature hitting his skin cooler than when it first left the faucet from it's long journey down to the floor of the shower, where Marco sat, head in hands, tears mixing with the water cascading down his face and body. 

 

The sobs wracking his frame were nearly silent, any hiccup or cough was masked well by the sound of water rushing through metal pipes and hitting the tile below.

 

After fifteen minutes spent crying, and five minutes spent actually showering, Marco stepped out, drying himself off and tying the towel around his chest out of habit. Making sure not too look in the mirror, he threw on a loose grey sweatshirt and pyjama bottoms and walked down to his room. 

 

Marco knew he wouldn't be able to finish his math, so he instead opted to grab his cellphone off it's charge on the desk, bringing up his boyfriend's name in the contacts and calling him.

 

"Yo," Came the quick answer, "Whassup, Marco?" Said male could hear the smile in the other's voice.

 

"Hey," he cringed at how rough his voice still was from crying, and he was willing to bet Jean had heard it too, "Are you busy?"

 

There was rustling on the other end, what sounded like papers being shoved away before a muffled call of, "I'm going out!" Could be heard, "Want me to come to your place?"

 

Marco sniffled, there were seriously no words to express just how much he loved his boyfriend, but a slightly choked, "Yes, please," was all he could get out for now.

 

"I'll see you in a bit then," Jean said on the other end, the dial tone following his words.

 

And so, he waited.

 

~~~♥~~~

 

It didn't take long before he heard the knock on the door downstairs. Jean usually liked to sneak in the window after hours via climbing the tree, he said it made him feel like a secret agent. But they both knew sneaking in wasn't necessary. Marco's parents loved Jean, they didn't see him as their transgender son's pansexual boyfriend, they saw him as their perfectly normal teenage daughter's straight boyfriend.

 

Or as someone who would influence their "daughter" to act more like a daughter.

 

Marco sat on his floral patterned duvet (as picked out by his mother) while he waited for the sounds of his mother and father welcoming his boyfriend to die down and the thump of footsteps running up the stairs to replace it. 

 

Soon his bedroom door squeaked open, Jean peaking his head in before sighing and fully walking into the room, closing the door after himself.

 

He sat down next to Marco, wordlessly taking his hand in his own and frowning at his expression, the other boy realizing he probably still had red rimmed eyes.

 

"What'd they say to you this time?"

 

Marco looked down to their entangled hands and a small smile touched his face, he waited a second just relaxing under his boyfriend's touch before answering.

 

"The normal stuff. But I asked them for a haircut finally," to emphasize his point, he pulled on the long pony tail that reached halfway down his back.

 

Jean looked up at him, his expression saying he already knew the answer to the question he was about to ask, "And what'd they say?"

 

Marco sighed, dropping his hair again and slumping down, "No, obviously."

 

His boyfriend frowned, stroking his back comfortingly and looking off to the far wall in contemplation. 

 

Then suddenly, his face lit up with an idea. 

 

"I'll be right back," he said excitedly, running out of the room and to the bathroom down the hall. When he came back he had several bath towels in his hand along with a pair of scissors, a smile spread across both of their faces.

 

"You wanna?"

 

Marco's smile went from beaming to sad when he remembered, "My parents would kill me…"

 

Jean laughed, "Fuck 'em."

 

Marco's smile returned and adrenaline pumped through his veins. He and Jean put the towels across the floor as Marco took off his shirt– Jean had seen his chest before and while it was slightly awkward the first time, as it was accidental, both of them would agree now that while his body was that of a girls, it didn't make him a girl, so it didn't really matter.

 

After the room was pretty much loose-hair proofed, Marco sat on the ground atop one of the many towels, one of which was soon after clipped behind his neck to create a cape of sorts.

 

"You ready?" 

 

Marco sighed happily, "Yeah."

 

And so he got to work, Marco watched through the hand-held mirror at the progress, though Jean snatched it away and said the rest was a surprise when the initial hair was cut off, all Marco could do was watch the black locks fall from his head and onto the fabric below him. The smiles never left their faces.

 

When Jean deemed his work done, he gave back the mirror, albeit a bit anxiously. Marco took it and stared at his reflection, tears springing to the corners of his eyes and falling down his face. The cut was slightly jagged in parts, imperfect, a bit crooked, and incorrectly done in some places due to the lack of proper tools, but it didn't matter to him. All that mattered was that for once in his life, he'd gotten the hair he'd always wanted. The hair that would represent his gender better than his last cut. 

 

"Do you like it?" Jean asked nervously from behind him.

 

Marco nodded quickly, smiling as wide as his face would allow him to as he quickly spun around and grabbed his boyfriend in a crushing hug, tears of joy wetting the other's shoulder.

 

Jean sighed, relieved, "Thank fuck, I thought it looked really off."

 

He laughed, "No, no, it's perfect. Thank you," he said as he kissed the other, still smiling. 

 

They spent the rest of their night watching cheesy old movie reruns and eating left over food Jean snuck upstairs from the kitchen. He would have to face hell for what they did tonight tomorrow morning, but momentary happiness was better than constant sadness. 

 

After anything and everything Marco'd been through, he was forever grateful that he had a hand to hold, a shoulder to lean on, and a person to love. 

 

 


End file.
